Project: Border Crossing

[1st Person POV]

I wake up… on the floor.

Groggy and disoriented, I try to sit up, but something feels off. I can't quite place it—but something's different. The air, the silence, the weight in my chest.

Instinctively, I check the time.

12:24.

FUCK. I'm about to be late!

Panic surges through me. I scramble to grab my stuff, throwing everything together in a blind rush. My bag's a mess, but I don't care—I bolt out of the shrine, heart racing, mind already trying to figure out how to explain this at the interview—

And then I stop.

Dead in my tracks.

Where the hell am I?

The sky is the wrong color. The trees are too tall, the breeze too crisp. The air tastes clean—unnaturally clean. I spin around to look at the shrine behind me…

Gone.

The shrine I was just inside has vanished. Completely. Just open air and moss-covered stones where it used to be.

…Damn. Looks like I'm in some deep shit right now. Fuck.

Forget the interview. I'm stranded in the middle of some weird-ass forest, with nothing but a bag full of books, a few supplies that probably won't last a full day, and my watch.

...

This is… this is… AMAZING.

I start laughing.

Not because I'm crazy—okay, maybe a little—but because for the first time in years, something's actually happening.

Something real.

This isn't dull. This isn't routine. This is new. And I feel alive.

Most people would be terrified in this situation. Lost, alone, with no clue where they are? Yeah, panic would be normal.

But not me.

I'm excited.

Still… I'm in a forest. And I do need to figure out how to get out of here.

Hopefully, there's a local nearby who can point me toward the nearest settlement—or at least someone who speaks a language I can understand.

I start walking, pushing through some low bushes, trying to find a path. Along the way, I spot flowers I've never seen before, and mushrooms that glow faintly in the shadows. Strange… but beautiful.

This place… it feels alive. Not in the "watch your step or it'll eat you" kind of way—though I probably shouldn't rule that out—but compared to my old world?

Yeah.

This place is bursting with life.

***

13:15.

Officially late for that interview.

Whatever. It's not like I'm getting back anytime soon.

I've been wandering for what feels like hours now, and hunger's gnawing at me. Might as well take a break. I pull out the sandwich I packed and sit on a nearby log, unwrapping it slowly.

Just as I'm about to take a bite, I hear rustling from the bushes.

I turn—and there's a small girl peeking at me through the leaves.

"Ah. Hi there," I say cautiously.

She freezes, then slowly steps out. Her eyes are wide, but there's something… wrong in them.

A shimmer, a glint—like something not entirely human is hiding behind that gaze.

"Hello," she says sweetly. "What's someone like you doing here?"

Okay. That's unsettling.

"I'm lost," I say, trying to stay calm. "I was hoping to find a way out of this place. If you could just point me toward the nearest village, I'd really appreciate it."

"Oh yeeeees," she says, dragging out the word in a way that makes my skin crawl. "The Human Village. It's that way."

She points randomly, no real direction at all.

"Oh, thank yo—"

I don't even finish the sentence.

She lunges.

A flash of red—silver—pain.

And I'm screaming.

My arm—My fucking arm is gone.

Blood sprays across the trees. I collapse backwards, gasping, trying to crawl away. She licks the blood from her hand—no, claw—smiling with inhuman glee.

Wings unfold from her back—bat-like, leathery, wrong. Her smile widens, stretching her face unnaturally.

"Oh… you smell interesting," she purrs.

I run.

***

I don't know how. Adrenaline, maybe. She's behind me—hovering, gliding, laughing—but I just run. The forest blurs. My vision flickers. Every heartbeat pumps more blood out of me. I can feel the warmth soaking through my shirt.

What the hell is she?!

A demon? A yokai? I don't care. I just have to escape.

I stumble. My knees buckle. I throw the sandwich—yes, the sandwich—over my shoulder.

It smacks her right in the face.

"…You little—oh my. This is good."

She actually stops to chew.

And I bolt.

I don't know how long I've been running.

Eventually, I collapse behind a tree, shaking, panting, clutching the bleeding stump where my arm used to be.

I'm alive.

But for how long?

That girl—thing—is still out there. She's probably already sniffing around for me.

"You could just end it here."

A voice. Inside my head. Calm. Cold.

"You're practically dead. Missing an arm, no food, no shelter. There's no way to recover from this."

No… there has to be a way.

This is a new world.

Magic, yokai, strange forests—anything's possible. Maybe someone here can help me. Maybe I can find a way to fix this.

"Optimism? How cute. This forest is crawling with monsters. If you meet anyone else, they'll probably kill you before you say hello. You're done. Just give up."

I try to focus, but the blood loss is messing with my head. Everything's spinning. My thoughts are slipping into the dark.

"End it. Kill yourself, and maybe you'll wake up. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe you'll be back in your apartment, just in time for the interview. Don't you want to go back to normal?"

Normal...…

Ha.

Haha.

Hahahahaha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"

"I don't care anymore…"

My voice is ragged, hoarse, but steady.

"I asked for this. I wanted something new. I wanted something real. And if I'm gonna die here…"

I drag myself upright, blood running down my side."…then I'm taking that bitch's arm as a parting gift."

My vision sways. My whole body feels like it's on fire. But I grab my belt and tie it tight around my bleeding shoulder—primitive tourniquet. Crude. But it'll have to do.

I open my bag.

Books. Chemicals. A few flasks. Some wire. Matches. Basic tools. School supplies.

My hands tremble, but my mind starts to race.

Think. Think. I can make something. Anything.

"You're insane. There's no way you're getting out of this."

Oh, shut the hell up. Just give me a minute to think...

My left arm is gone.

And everything hurts.

But I'm not dead yet.

I empty my bag onto the dirt with one shaking hand. Alcohol flask. A cloth. Sulfur. A nearly full glass sample bottle. Old matchbook. Some wires. A pen. My body's screaming, my brain's boiling, but my hands—well, hand—still works.

Barely.

I grip the cloth with my teeth and tear a strip off. I fumble the bottle open, spill alcohol inside. It's hard. Messy. But I manage. I wedge the cloth into the bottle's neck and tighten it with a rubber band.

Shaky.

But it'll do.

Next: the trigger.

I pull the matchbook out and bite it open, careful not to tear the striking strip. Then I wrap wire around it, rigging it like a hairpin trigger between two trees—tense and barely holding. If anything brushes the wire, it'll rip the matchbook open. The friction should light the cloth.

I've only got one matchbook.

This better work.

I crawl back to a rock outcropping, spear clutched in my one hand. It's just a sharpened branch reinforced with metal from my pen, but it feels like a weapon in my grip.

I brace the shaft under my armpit to steady it.

Not elegant. Not clean.

But I'm not trying to be a warrior.

I'm trying to live.

The world is hazy. My chest is cold. I'm bleeding out.

But I wait.

I listen.

And then I hear her.

Flap. Flutter.

That high-pitched giggle, sweet and sharp like broken glass.

"Where are you, little human~?" she coos. "I still owe you for the sandwich."

Closer.

Closer.

Snap.

The wire breaks.

FSSSSSHH—BOOM!

The bottle bursts. A wave of fire blasts through the trees.

She screams.

And so do I—charging, staggering through the smoke, spear wobbling in my grip. My balance is off. My body is broken. But I move.

I throw all my weight behind the thrust.

CRACK.

The spear punches through her shoulder. She screeches, wings flailing.

One-handed, I can't aim well. I drive the spear again, this time into her chest. Once. Twice. Blood splashes against my face.

And finally, she slumps.

I fall beside her, gasping for air. The world is spinning. My head feels light.

I'm alive.

I did it.

I survived.

"…That's what you get… you crazy bitch…"

My vision fades. The trees blur. I think I hear footsteps.

Or maybe it's the wind.

And then—darkness.